


Don't Leave Me in the Dark

by Assassins_Wolves



Category: Pompeii (2014)
Genre: Abused Omega, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Slavery, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Past Violence, Rescued Slave, Slavery, Slow Burn, Subspace, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-01 05:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14513349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Assassins_Wolves/pseuds/Assassins_Wolves
Summary: AU where Cassia is the slave, not Milo.Cassia is an abused omega slave that alpha Milo rescues. Milo doesn’t believe in slavery, but he can’t turn Cassia away. As he struggles to help Cassia recover, he finds he has no idea what he’s doing. Cassia’s just trying to make sense of it all, especially the way she feels towards Milo.





	1. Scared Prisoner, Sympathetic Rescuer

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my first fanfic. Let me know what you think!

The stone floor I’m chained to is cold, the kind of cold that creeps in and settles next to my bones. I shiver underneath the thin rags I’m wearing. My hands are numb with cold and it’s pitch black in here. I can’t see anything. Where is Master? He left me all alone again. He hates me, I know he does. What did I do wrong? Why doesn’t he want me?

A commotion outside of my cell catches my attention. There’s a lot of crashes and yelling. People are in the house. Is that the sound of swords clashing together? The sounds get louder and louder and closer until someone beats on the door of my cell. 

I wait with tensed muscles for the door to open. But the voices bang on the door and then recede. Are they gone?

I flinch as a large impact splinters the wooden door, tucking my legs up under me in a kneeling position. Master always gets angry if I’m not kneeling when he comes in. The door shudders against another impact, creaking as it gives way.

The door bursts open, and light pours in, blinding me. I can see the figures of several armored men holding swords. Their scent reaches me as they cross the threshold. Alphas, every one of them. I immediately duck my head down submissively and lower myself as close as I can get to the ground. My omega nature tells me that if I submit to them, maybe they won’t hurt me.

One Alpha breaks off from the rest. He sheathes his sword and takes off his helmet before kneeling at my side. “Hey,” he says softly. “It’s okay. My name’s Milo. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I don’t reply, but keep my eyes downward, not daring to look up at him. 

“Do you know where the key to your restraints is?” he asks. 

I swallow. Should I reply or not? On one hand, some Alphas don’t like to be addressed by omegas, but on the other he asked me a direct question and not answering him would be disobeying.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know, Alpha,” I rasp. 

The Alpha frowns at me, and I can smell the displeasure coming off of him. I shrink a little. I must be a bad omega indeed if even this strange new Alpha is unhappy with me within seconds of meeting me. Master left me alone because he doesn’t want me. I can't help the tear that spills over in despair.

The Alpha reaches for my chin. I hold myself still and let him tilt my chin up while keeping my eyes down. Never look an Alpha in the eye. It's a challenge, one that I won't win.

“I think she’s in subdrop,” he says, but he’s not talking to me. 

He stands and walks over to the group of men. There is a hushed discussion and then a new man runs up to join them, a beta by the smell of it.

“I found this key on the body, Sir,” he says, presenting the Alpha who spoke to me with the key. 

So he is to be addressed as Sir, not Alpha. Sir walks back over to me and I tremble in anticipation. 

“I’m going to unchain your wrists,” he says, kneeling at my side slowly. 

I can’t help trying to jerk away from him when he reaches for my wrists. He slows his movement down and grabs the cuffs. I can hear him insert the key into my iron manacles. There’s a distinctive click and then the cuffs drop from my wrists. I keep my hands behind my back, not daring to move them.

“Is that it?” he asks. 

Not daring to speak to him again, I tug at my ankle, causing the manacle around it to clank loudly. He understands quickly and reaches for my ankle manacle. After a second on fiddling with the lock, my ankle is freed as well. 

“Can you stand up?” he asks. 

There’s no underlying Alpha order, but my biology still forces me to obey it immediately. I’m almost shocked by the urge to obey him. When I’m healthy and not in subdrop, I can normally push through Master’s commands. I grit my teeth and struggle to my feet with trembling legs. My knees ache horribly from kneeling for so long and my ankle throbs. In the end, it’s my swollen knee that gives under me and sends me crashing back down to the ground. I can’t help yelping in pain. The palms of my hands and my knees take most of the impact, the pain jolting me into terror.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I’m so sorry, I’ll be good. I can be good, I promise, Sir,” I panic, taking shuddering gulps of air. 

“Shh, shh. It’s alright,” he says, slipping one arm under my shoulders and one under my knees. 

I force myself to release my tensed muscles and let my body go limp as he picks me up. He tucks me close to his chest and stands, lifting me up easily. He carries me out the door in his arms, stepping over the doorway like it doesn’t matter, like I haven’t spent years cowering on the inside of that doorway longing to cross it. I close my eyes at the bright light, but don’t dare to sling an arm over my eyes. 

I keep my eyes squeezed shut while Sir carries me through the house. The rocking motion as he’s carrying me is making me sick. My head pounds and buzzes, causing ringing in my ears. I feel like I might pass out.

A cool breeze across my face startles me. I open my eyes hesitantly and then blink and look around me in wonder.

I’m outside. It’s morning, the sun shining brightly across vineyards in the distance. There’s still dew on the vines. The sun is warm on my skin, and I can smell the grass. I can feel myself getting pulled out of subdrop, just from the warmth and light. I haven’t been outside in…..forever. 

The Alpha, Sir, doesn’t stop for a second. He carries me down the dirt path lined with hedges towards the small stone road, where a carriage and several horses are waiting. Another person opens the closest door to the carriage. Sir lifts me up and deposits me on the seat before shutting the door.

I slide off of the seat and kneel on the floor, head bowed, arms crossed behind my back, facing the opposite door.

Sir walks around the carriage and climbs in the other side. When he sees me on the floor he sighs in disappointment. I lower myself a little more. Master doesn’t want me and Sir is displeased with me. I threaten to fall deeper back into subdrop again, teetering on the edge. I press my lips together, trying to gain control.

Sir suddenly leans down and holds something out to me in his hand. I don’t take it or look at it, waiting for permission. 

“Here’s some water,” he says. 

I raise my head and take the waterskin in one hand.

“I want you to drink half of it, with slow sips,” he orders, putting the hint of Alpha force behind his words. 

I can’t believe my good luck. When Master gave me water, I had to lick it up off of the ground. I uncork the waterskin and drink it eagerly, but limit myself to slow sips like Sir ordered. The cool water soothes my throat, which is swollen from the tight collar. Sir leans out the window to speak to the driver and then returns to watching me. 

“Good job,” he praises. 

My body lights up at the praise, a warmth glowing in my chest. I lean against the seat, the tension leaking out of my body. 

“Oh,” he says, sounding sad. 

Just like that, I’m out of subdrop. It feels good to have actually accomplished a task set for me by an Alpha. Master liked to give me orders he knew I couldn’t achieve, just to make me frustrated. And to have Sir praise me for it too? Unheard of.

The horrible, frantic terror of letting down Master is gone, leaving behind the usual fear and anxiety over a strange new Alpha. Sensations rush back into my body, pain most of all. The welts on my back stings the worst, but my ribs ache, as do my knees, and the skin on my wrists and ankles is rubbed raw. Not to mention I can’t bend several fingers on my left hand.

My stomach feels like it’s being ripped apart my hunger pains. The water sloshing inside my stomach only woke up my hunger. When was the last time I got to eat anything? It’s hard to keep track of time in the dark cell, but I think it’s been almost two full days.

Free of subdrop, I can think clearly for the first time in a while. I take stock of my situation with my new awareness. I’m in a carriage with another Alpha’s. He's letting me ride inside too. Master would tie me to the back and make me stumble behind the carriage on the rare occasion that he let me out of my cell. But this new Alpha got me out. That probably means that Master, Master might be dead. Good, I think fiercely, glad to be able to rebel against Master in my thoughts again. Subdrop makes me desperate to please Master and make him like me. He used to force me in it all the time to control me. 

But I might not have to worry about that anymore. Good, I’m glad. I hope he’s dead. This Alpha will be a fresh start. I'm very careful and very good I can make a good impression on him from the beginning. If he doesn't know how bad I am he won't punish me. I shuffle my feet under me, positioning myself into perfect submitting position. I can be good for Sir. I will be good for Sir, I think confidently. 

 

(Milo POV)

I duck behind one of the marble pillars as an arrow whizzes by, glancing off of the stone. Leaning back around, I get a glimpse of the room. There’s an archer approaching me with a crossbow, and a dark headed Alpha in the center of the room. That would be the Senator. 

A spear bursts through the archers chest. I glance upward in the direction it came from. Atticus shoots me a grin before he ducks under a sword and goes back to fighting several guards on the second story. I take off in a sprint for Senator Corvus. He turns tail and runs.

He might be stronger than me, but I'm faster. I catch up to Corvus and corner him in the next room. He turns around, teeth bared and a sword in hand. He slashes widely over my head. I duck under the blade and slice across his exposed chest. He parries, driving me back a step, but his swing is wide. I come up inside of his guard and stab my sword deep into his chest.

His eyes widen and he gurgles on blood and drops to the door, his sword clattering from his hands. I keep my sword raised, in case I need to strike again but there's no need. Attius Corvus, the Roman Senator, criminal, and human trafficker, is dead. Nudging Corvus's corpse with my sword, I observe him grimly. He had it coming, the sick bastard.

It was a fairly easy fight, all things considered. None of my men were killed, and only two were injured. After confirming the death of all armed combatants that had been engaged, my team quickly spreads out through the large estate, sweeping the grounds for any other threats.

We uncover room after room of "merchandise." Corvus was selling drugs, weapons, and kidnapped omegas to black market buyers. The rooms full of frightened omegas, chained together and waiting to be sold are hard to stomach. There must be thirty of them, all girls but for a single male omega. He bravely tried to shield the girls from us with his frail form, skin stretched taunt over his ribs. My men are well disciplined, none of the Alphas even makes a move towards the hostages. The rehabilitation team comes in, full of non-threatening Betas who unlock the kidnapped omegas. Some of them are pitifully young, tiny figures carried in the Betas's arms as they carry them away. 

I sigh and take off my helmet at the last ones are ferried off in wagons. I'll be glad when this mission is over and behind me. I've got a mild slice on one arm that stings, my hair is matted with sweat and blood, but most of all I'm bone weary from what I have seen.Corvus’s crimes are some of the most disgusting I’ve ever seen.

Felix, the newest and youngest of my men, comes running up to me. I turn to greet the young Beta. He quickly crosses his right arm over his chest in respect when he reaches my side.

“Sir, we found a locked basement door,” he reports. 

It could be more trafficking victims, or it could be a safe room full on conspirators waiting for us to leave so they can sneak away.I follow Felix down to the basement. Sure enough, there is an enforced wooden door at the bottom of the stairs.

“Knock it down,” I order, putting my helmet back on. 

Atticus leads the men in fetching a battering log and using it to slam into the door. I unsheathe my sword, ready to lead the charge into the room in case it's full of more enemies. The door splinters under the first hit, and then gives way all together. The door bursts open letting light into the pitch black room.

There’s a young woman kneeling the middle of the floor, hands cuffed behind her back and chained to the floor. At the sight of us she immediately ducks her head and lowers herself as close as she can get to the ground. The gesture is submissive, but her body is rigid with tension. The smell of her fear is nauseating. 

She’s an omega. I can smell her from the door. With a hand gesture, I order my men back out of the room. The Beta team has already left, convinced the area was clear. I'll have to handle her myself. Sheathing my sword once again, I take my helmet off and approach the omega. Moving slowly so as not to scare her, I kneel next to her. She trembles like a leaf, and won’t look at me. There’s a stiff leather collar around her neck with a single word carved into it. Slave.

She looks fairly short, but lean, with long, dull brown hair in a matted braid down her back. One of her eyes is blackened and her lip is split open. She’s filthy, covered in dirt and blood. The only clean spots on her face are tear tracks running down her cheeks, exposing milky white skin. 

“Hey,” I say quietly, hoping to calm her down. “It’s okay. My name is Milo. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

She doesn’t reply, but I can tell she’s listening to me. I glance down at the heavy iron manacles around her wrists. 

“Do you know where the key to your restraints is?” I ask.

She swallows fearfully. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know, Alpha,” she rasps, her voice rough from disuse. 

The formal title catches me off guard. Normally only a mated omega will refer to their own bonded as Alpha. Certainly not a complete stranger. Someone made her call them that. Corvus? A tear leaks out of the omega’s eye, but her facial expression doesn’t change.

I tilt her chin up. She keeps her eyes down, but I peer into them. They’re glazed over by terror, despair, and desperation. I’ve seen this before in many of the omegas we rescue.

“I think she’s in subdrop,” I tell my men. 

I lower her chin gently and then turn back to my men. I carefully unsling my sword belt and hand it off to Atticus, my second in command.

“She could die from subdrop shock if she doesn’t get help soon,” I say. “I know it’s not protocol, but I’m going to take her home with me.” 

I lift the iron breastplate over my head as I talk. I don’t want to scare the omega with all my bulky armor. I've never done this before, but somehow I feel like it would help. 

“Since I'm the one that killed Corvus, it's still technically legal. I'll get her to the rehabilitation team as soon as she heals. Atticus, you take point. We need to find the key to unlock her. Those are some pretty serious cuffs.”

I don’t know how I can get them off of her without hurting her if we can’t find the key. We can’t cut the chain, a strike hard enough to break it might go astray and strike her. And a file, even if we had one, would take too long.

Felix comes jogging down the hall while I mull over my options. I turn my attention to him. 

“I found a key on the body, sir,” he says, holding up a key. 

Thank goodness. I take the key from Felix, patting him on the shoulder gratefully. This has to be the key that opens the manacles. 

I pad into the cell again, making sure the omega notices my entrance. I don’t want to sneak up on her and scare her. She quivers in terror as I kneel at her side. 

“I’m going to unchain your wrists,” I narrate. 

When I reach behind her, she flinches violently, probably anticipating a blow. I slow the movement and insert the key in the manacles. They’re fairly old and rusty, and it takes a bit a jiggling before they come open with a click. The omega doesn’t move her hands from behind her back, not even when the cuffs fall to the stone floor.

Her wrists are covered in open sores from the heavy metal cuffs. There’s no telling how long she’s been wearing them. 

“Is that it?” I ask.

She tugs at the ankle farthest away from me, causing the manacle around it to clink loudly. One of her ankles is chained to the floor, I realize.

I insert the key in the ankle manacle, praying it works for both. The lock takes a little more wiggling to come open, but the manacle comes free without too much trouble. The skin on her ankle is red and irritated same as her wrists.

“Can you stand? I ask. 

The omega struggles to her feet in lieu of a reply, gritting her teeth. Her leg buckles and she crashes back to the floor with a yelp of pain. I reach for her, worried about the sharp crack her knees made against the stone, but she shrinks back. That wasn’t even close to an order, and she acted like I put full Alpha force into it. This omega must be severely sub-starved.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I’m so sorry, I’ll be good. I can be good, I promise, Sir,” she cringes. Like it was her fault that she couldn’t stand after kneeling for hours.

Her breaths come in rapid, harsh gulps of air. 

“Shh, shh. It’s alright,” I promise. 

I scoop my arms under her to pick her up. The omega lets her body go limp. She’s painfully light. I knew she was underweight just by looking at her, but it’s still a surprise how easy it is to lift her up. She’s also a little taller than I first thought, folded over herself. She’s still making an effort to be small, tucking her arms into her chest and curling into a ball in my arms.

I stand and carry her through the door. My men fall back respectfully, not wanting to crowd the traumatized omega with too many Alphas. I find myself tucking her a little closer to my chest as I pass. Mine, my Alpha instincts growl. I have to remind myself that while it’s my job to protect her right now, she doesn’t belong to anyone.

I look down at the omega as I walk. She has her eyes squeezed closed. Maybe she’s scared. I walk through several hallways before finally pushing open the wooden door to outside with my hip. Felix is waiting by the carriage meant for the Senator. We’ll just sling his body across the back of one of the horses instead.

Felix opens the side door and grimaces sadly at the omega. I boost the omega up into the leather seat and shut the door gently.

Felix is already climbing up into the driver’s bench when I turn around. Normally I would drive, but I think it would be best if I stay with the omega. I walk around the back of the carriage to the other side, checking on my horse, Veras, who Felix tied behind the carriage.

When I get in, the omega is keeling on the floorboards, arms behind her back in the same position I found her in. Her eyes are still glazed over in fear. I sigh. She hears my disappointment and cowers a little more. She’s still in subdrop for heaven’s sake I scold myself. That’s a big problem in itself. I need to bring her out of it, but I’m not her Alpha so there’s no guarantee I’ll be able too.

I spot a waterskin laying on the seat and get an idea. Grabbing it, I lean towards the omega and offer it to her. She doesn’t take it. 

“Here’s some water,” I prompt. She raises her head and takes the skin from me with one hand, but still doesn’t drink. Maybe I need to put a little bit of order into it.

“I want you to drink half of it. With slow sips,” I add. 

She uncorks the skin and begins drinking it thirstily, but clearly trying to go slowly. Satisfied, I lean out the window and tell Felix to start driving. Turning back, I see the omega has put the skin down.

“Good job,” I compliment her lightly. Glancing over at her, I watch her melt against the seat at the praise. The glaze disappears from her eyes and she seems to come awake for the first time.

I pulled her out of subgroup I realize. 

“Oh.” My heart breaks over how easy that was.

I didn’t even touch her or say her name. Just a simple good job was enough to pull her out of a severe subdrop. It’s so horribly sad, I can’t help but imagine what she must have gone through. 

She’s obviously been sub-starved for a long time if any positive attention from an Alpha will work. I wonder how much it takes for her to enter subspace. A pat on the back and telling her I’m proud of her?

I focus on the road, vigilante for an attack, but can’t help noticing that despite coming out of subdrop, the omega stays in perfect kneeling position throughout the entire trip.


	2. Reluctant Bather, Rigid Washer

“We’re here,” Sir announces, as the carriage rumbles to a stop.

I stay still, waiting for an order. He gets out of the carriage, and my stomach drops a little. Is he going to leave me here? I scold myself for wanting to be next to this new Alpha. What is wrong with me? He's going to be just like the last one, I know he will. It's just a matter of time until his true colors come out.

The door behind me opens and I jump. Sir’s hands are under my shoulders, lifting me up out of the carriage. He sets me down on my feet on a dirt path. I take the brief opportunity to look around. We’re on a dirt road leading up to a large house surrounded by tall, waving grass. The house itself is smaller than Master's estate if you don't count the stables attached to it.

I waver and am about to collapse again when Sir scoops me up again. I try to hold still, but jerk a little in surprise. He carries me along the path and up the steps to the house. It’s a little awkward, but he manages push open the thick wooden door while holding me. He steps inside and deposits me on a bench inside the doorway.

He closes the door and takes his shoes off, taking a moment to unlace his sandals. I’m already barefoot, but I make a mental note. No shoes in the house. Sir picks me up again and carries me through an open courtyard and down a long hall. At the end, we reach a bedroom. His bedroom in all likelihood. 

I try not to stiffen as he sets me on the bed, hiding my wince of pain the best I can. He won't want me if he finds out I'm damaged. Not to mention, I’m filthy and I’m going to get dirt and blood all over his clean bedding. Once he sees it, he’ll punish me for damaging his property. But I can’t very well tell him no, I will not sit on the bed either. Very slowly, I move to present for him, on all fours with my head down. I barely even turn over before he stops me.

“Oh, uh. Just sit down for now,” he says, the tips of his ears turning red. 

I duck my head and bite my bottom lip. Sir sits down on one side of the bed, encouraging me to do the same by patting the bed with his hand. I stiffly obey, the skin of my back feeling swollen and tight. 

“I’m sure you have lots of questions. First of all, I don’t want to lie to you. The Alpha who had you is dead. I’m part of the special guard sent to arrest Senator Corvus for conspiring against the Emperor. He fought back and I killed him."

My head is spinning. Master is dead. Sir killed him. That means, that means Sir is Master now. I wonder which I should call him? 

“For now, I’lll be taking care of you, until you feel better. Can I ask you what your name is?” 

“My name is whatever you choose,” I reply. 

I remember some of my training at least. Sir..Master looks disappointed at my answer. I want to drop to my knees and wait for an order, but he’s already ordered me to sit.

“What did your last Alpha call you?” he asks. 

I don’t want to reply, but it’s practically an order. I don’t have the strength to push through the compelling right now.

“Omega. Pet. Slave. Bitch.” I list off quickly, looking at my hands folded in my lap. There's stunned silence from him that stretches just long enough to make me panic I did something wrong.

“What is the name you call yourself?” he asks finally. I hesitate for a second, wondering if I should tell him the truth. It would be good to have my name back, I decide. 

“Cassia, Master,” I keep my head bowed, waiting to see if my risky use of titles will work for or against me.

“Cassia, that’s a pretty name. First things first, you don’t have to call me master,” he says. “My name is Milo, you’re welcome to call me that.” 

My stomach drops. Wrong title. Sir it is. 

“And secondly, I’d like you to look at me.” 

I flick my eyes up to meet his. I haven’t really looked at him before. With his curly brown hair and square jaw, Sir is a good looking Alpha I suppose. Or at least I might have thought so in the past. I haven’t really had the luxury of deciding whether or not someone is attractive. But his eyes look kind, he seems almost gentle for all his strength. 

“There we go," he praises, smiling at me. "You don’t have to look me in the eye, but I bet the last Alpha wouldn’t let you look at him. You have full permission to look me in the eye or not, whichever you would like,” he says firmly. 

I quickly add the new rules to my mental list. Always refer the Alpha as Sir. No shoes inside. Look at Sir when he speaks to me. If I want to make up for getting his bed dirty, which he hasn’t noticed yet, I’ll have to be very good.

“Right now, we’re going to go take a bath in the bathroom. I’ll help you, I don’t want you to slip, and then you can put on some clean clothes. Here we go, ready?” Sir asks as he approaches me. 

Picking me up, once again, he carries me down a shorter hall branching off from his bedroom. It leads to a small bathhouse, with a steaming pool in the middle. Sir eases me down on the tile floor.

He kneels next to the pool and sticks a hand in, gauging its temperature. There’s steam rising off the water. The sight makes me want to cry. I haven’t taken a bath in years. Master would just throw a bucket of stinging cold water over me when I started smelling too bad.

Sir riffles through a nearby chest and begins to pour something into the small pool that makes it foam over with bubbles. Next he pulls out a fluffy towel and lays in next to the pool.

“Alright, I’m going to turn around. Do you think you can undress and climb in without any help?” he asks.

“I’m sorry Sir, this is for me?” Sir nods, but doesn’t speak. I didn’t answer his question, I realize. “Yes Sir, I can do it Sir!” I answer in a rush.

“Take your time,” he says as he turns his back and places one hand over his eyes. 

An Alpha giving their omega privacy is ridiculous behavior, but I don't stop to question it. Instead, I pull what was once a smock over my head, trying not to whine in pain as it brushes across the whip marks on my back, but my arms get tangled up in it over my head. I tug my arms free, biting my lip. Tears spring to my eyes. I carefully fold the torn and stained smock and place it on the floor. 

I’m not wearing any underwear, and my bare skin prickles with cold. I’m naked but for the leather collar around my throat. Clumsily I climb over the rim of the pool and plunge in, sinking below the bubbles. It’s only about knee deep in this part, not deep enough for me to drown in. The water is warm, which I wasn’t expecting. I can almost feel my muscles loosening.

“Are you in the pool?” asks Sir.

“Yes, Sir,” I reply quickly, my biology forcing me to answer dutifully. 

Sir has very strong control over me, more than Master ever did. I’m not sure I could resist a command from him.

“Are you comfortable?” He questions. 

“Yes, Sir. It’s warm. Thank you, Sir,” I reply. 

No doubt Sir will be demanding payment for this luxury, but whatever it will be, it was worth it. 

“Good,” Sir replies in a strangled voice without turning around. “There’s a washrag handing over the side of the pool. Go ahead and wash yourself with it, and then I’ll help you with your hair. Let me know when you’ve finished, but take all the time you need.” 

I take the rag from where it is placed on the edge of the pool. I begin scrubbing vigorously at my chest and arms. Dirt sloughs off me, turning the water a murky grey. I eagerly rub the dried blood and dirt off my face. Master’s scent is getting washed off too. I’m finally going to be rid of him. 

My legs aren’t quite as dirty, but my feet are filthy. I spend several minutes scrubbing the layer of scum off them. I’m not quite ready to scrub my back, but hopefully the soapy water will help clean out the wounds. It stings fiercely against my back and the raw skin on my wrists and ankles.

“I’ve finished, Sir,” I inform him quietly, sinking back below the bubbles. 

He turns around and kneels at the side of the pool again. He reaches over me and grabs one of the bottles lined along the side of the tub. He reaches for my hair and begins to unbraid it until it falls into three matted sections. Turning the bottle over, he pours what I'm guessing is shampoo into his hand.

“Tilt your head back,” he orders. 

I grab the edges of the pool with a death grip, but do as he asks. Is he going to drown me? Oh god. Maybe he's going to cull me. He warmed the bath as a final mercy, to make my last moments peaceful. There are worse ways to go, but I'm still terrified. 

Sir begins massaging shampoo into my hair, and I begin to melt into his hands involuntarily. His fingers feel so good against my scalp, even when they snag on a tangled knot. 

“Now lean back,” he orders.

I let him push my shoulders back, still trembling. He doesn't grab my throat and shove my face underwater, but instead gently rinses out my hair. Sir helps me sit up again and then chooses a different bottle that must be conditioner. He works it through my hair in the same way. I can only focus on his hand on my scalp, rough calluses and gentle touches. It's been so very long since I've gotten a nonviolent touch from an Alpha. I'm dangerously close to slipping into subspace. I trill sleepily, almost purring from the contact.

My cheeks flush in embarrassment as the noise comes out of my throat. I snap back into the present, keenly aware that I was not given permission to go into subspace. Sir doesn’t acknowledge my slip up, just helps me lean back and rinse my hair out again. This time I'm more pliant, trusting that he's not going to drown me.

“Alright, if I go get you some clothes, do you think you can get out and dry off by yourself?” Sir asks. I nod. Sir gets to his feet, wincing a little and leaves the bathroom, carefully shutting the door behind him.

I slither over the side of the tub and onto the bathroom floor, not trusting my weak legs to support me if I stand. I reach for the towel laying nearby. It's soft and fluffy to the touch, a novelty compared to the scratchy rags Master used to wipe me down with. I pat myself dry, and for a split second I wrap it around my naked body rebelliously.

But then a wave of desperation hits me, and I realize that I may never find another master as kind as Sir. I need to make sure he'll keep me. I need to show him what a good omega I can be. I let the towel fall the the floor, and carefully kneel on the tile by the bath. Sir will probably prefer me this way. Master always had. I wait in silence for Sir to come back, ducking my head and crossing my arms behind my back. Now I wait.

 

 

(Milo POV)

 

“We’re here,” I announce, as the Felix stops the carriage outside my house.

The omega still doesn’t move, waiting for a direct order. I get out of the carriage and walk around to the back, where Felix is already untying Veras. Normally I would never let anyone else tend to my horse, but I've got more important things to deal with right now.

I open the other carriage door and the omega jumps a little in surprise. I slide my hand under her shoulders and lift her out of the car. I set her down on the dirt road for a second while I shut the carriage door and then pick her up again. She’s barefoot, and I don’t want her to hurt her feet. Besides that, I’m not entirely certain she can walk right now.

I carry her along the path and up the steps to the front door. It's hard to open the door without a free hand, but I manage to push it open without dropping her. Stepping inside, I sit her on the bench inside the door while I unlace my sandals. When I'm finished, I scoop her up again and carry her through the courtyard and down several halls to my own room. I can’t help but feel guilty for bringing the abused omega into my bedroom, but one of the servants will have already heated up my bath, and she needs it more than I do.

As soon as I put her down on the bed, she slowly starts trying to turn over onto her hands and knees. I can’t imagine what she thinks is about to happen. My ears burn and I rub the back of my neck in embarrassment.

“Oh, uh. Just sit down for now,” I tell her, doing my very best to keep any hint of an order out of my voice. 

She still ducks her head and bites her lip anxiously. I sit on the bed too, as far away from her as possible and pat the bed with my hand. She pulls herself into a sitting position and folds her hand in her lap. I’m not sure how to tell her what’s going on, so I just blurt it out.

“I’m sure you have lots of questions. First of all, I don’t want to lie to you,” I tell her honestly. I really want this omega to trust me. “The Alpha who had you is dead.” 

She doesn’t react to this news at all. If she were bonded with the Alpha, she would be in horrible pain and shock from the snapping of the bond. I’ve seen no symptoms of bond snap, so I’m betting they weren’t bonded. 

“I’m part of the special guard sent to arrest Senator Corvus for conspiring against the Emperor. He fought back and I killed him.”

It's not entirely the truth. I never had any intention of brining Senator Corvus back alive. The man was responsible for the murder of my entire family. Atticus helped me make a plan to kill him and make it look like I had too. We planned out every possible scenario. But somehow, none of them included me automatically getting the rights to his poor omega upon his death.

“For now, I’lll be taking care of you, until you feel better. Can I ask you what your name is?” I ask carefully.

“My name is whatever you choose,” she replies immediately. 

Doesn’t she have a name? I’m not going to just...give her a name if she already has one.

“What did your last Alpha call you?” I asks. 

“Omega. Pet. Slave. Bitch,” she lists off in a toneless voice, like such derogatory terms don’t hurt her. 

That is not what I meant. At all. 

“What is the name you call yourself?” I try again. 

Surely she doesn’t refer to herself as…omega or, or slave. She doesn’t respond right away this time, like her name is something she doesn’t want to share with me. Of course not, I realize. Her name is the only thing she has.

“Cassia, Master,” she says quietly. 

I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face from her use of titles. Her old Alpha must have made her call him that. It’s very traditional, but it’s also literal for her. He owned her. Now I own her, I realize. In the eyes of the law, I own this omega. I try to calm my panic, the omega will pick up on it and get upset too.

“Cassia, that’s a pretty name,” I croon. “First things first, you don’t have to call me master.” 

Her shoulders curl in at the correction, like she’s afraid she’ll get punished. She keeps her eyes downcast, something she’s done since the moment I met her. 

“My name is Milo, you’re welcome to call me that. And secondly, I’d like you to look at me,” I tell her.

Cassia’s eyes flick up to meet mine nervously. She has beautiful eyes that are a dark brown color and long black lashes, even with a dark purple ring around one of them. I try to quell any interest in her, I don’t want to scare her with the smell of arousal.

“There we go. You don’t have to look me in the eye, but I bet the last Alpha wouldn’t let you look at him. You have full permission to look me in the eye or not, whichever you would like,” I promise.“Right now, we’re going to go take a bath in the bathroom. I’ll help you, I don’t want you to slip, and then you can put on some clean clothes. Here we go, ready?”I warn as I approach Cassia. 

She lets me pick her up and carry her into the bathroom. I gently sit her down next to the shallow pool on the bathroom floor.

I dip my hand, checking to make sure the water isn’t too hot. With a little bit of looking, I’m able to find some bubble bath that one of my men gave me as a joke. I don’t really want to leave Cassia alone, she might drown or slip and hurt herself, but this will give her some modesty. I also pull out a large fluffy towel and put it down next to the pool.

“Alright, I’m going to turn around. Do you think you can undress and climb into the pool without any help?” I ask.

“I’m sorry sir, this is for me?” Cassia questions tremulously. 

I don’t trust myself to say anything, so I just give her a tight smile and nod. Cassia stares at the water for a few second, clearly in awe, before she snaps upright, remembering my question.

“Yes sir, I can do it sir!” she promises fervently.

“Take your time,” I tell her as I turn my back. 

I close my eyes, but I also put one hand over them for emphasis. I can hear rustling as Cassia undresses. It sounds like slow going, and from the quiet gasps, it must be painful for her too. My mind is racing trying to remember any other injuries besides the obvious ones. She couldn’t stand, maybe her legs are hurt. Can she get in the pool without help? 

A splash interrupts my train of thought. 

“Are you in the pool?” I call.

“Yes sir,” Cassia replies quickly.

“Are you comfortable?” I ask.

“Yes sir. It’s warm. Thank you, sir,” she says with quiet awe. 

It’s warm. However she’s been bathing, she must not have been allowed to use warm water. The more I learn about Cassia the more my heart aches for her.

“Good,” I choke out in reply. “There’s a washrag hanging over the side of the pool. Go ahead and wash yourself with it, and then I’ll help you with your hair. Let me know when you’ve finished, but take all the time you need.” 

Cassia doesn’t reply, but I can hear quiet splashing and the washrag rubbing against skin, so she must be washing herself. I go back to fretting over her injuries. I know her wrists and ankles were covered in sores. She had a black eye and bruised cheek. Surely the rest of her must be bruised too.

I sit in silence for a while before Cassia speaks. “I’ve finished, sir,” she informs me quietly. 

I open my eyes and turn around to kneel next to the pool. Her head and thin shoulders are the only thing visible above the bubbles. The collar around her neck stands out starkly compared with her nakedness. I have to get that off of her. She looks much cleaner, but her hair is still matted in a braid. 

I reach over her for the shampoo. She sinks a little deeper into the water, but doesn’t flinch when I began to unbraid her hair. It hasn’t been brushed in a long time, but it’s very long. I rip more of it out than I’d like to as I undo the matted braid, but she doesn’t flinch. 

Pouring some shampoo into my hands, I reach for her hair again. 

“Tilt your head back,” I tell her. 

Cassia doesn’t immediately obey, but grabs the edges of the pool with white knuckles. It’s the closest she’s come so far to not doing what I’ve asked. She’s clearly upset, so I’ll have to be very careful and gentle with her. Slowly, she tilts her head back, exposing her neck to me. I work the shampoo into her hair, trying to massage her scalp pleasantly even though I keep tangling my fingers in her hair.

Cassia leans into my hands, her body relaxing. Is she going to go into subspace from this? If she does, there’s no way I’ll be able to get her out of the tub. 

“Now lean back,” I tell her, doing my best not to put any Alpha order into it at all. 

I push her shoulders back. She leans back obediently, trembling all the while. I wash the shampoo out of her hair, careful to make sure none of it goes in her eyes.

I help Cassia sit up again and then grab the conditioner bottle. I pour a whole handful into my hand. Hopefully this will take care of most of the knots. I work it into her hair again, gently separating tangles. It takes me a few minutes of working before I realize that Cassia has closed her eyes and gone lax in the pool. She starts to make a trilling noise with every breath, similar to a purr.

Her eyes fly open and she blushes furiously. I help her lean back and rinse the conditioner out, pretending I didn’t notice. Inside, I’m thrilled that this omega is already starting to trust me, even after everything she’s been through. Not to mention she’s absolutely adorable.

“Alright, if I go get you some clothes, do you think you can get out and dry off by yourself?” I ask. 

Cassia jerks her chin down in a quick nod. I climb to my feet, wincing at the soreness in my legs from kneeling for so long. I carefully shut the bathroom door behind me and then start to rummage through my closet for some clothes that might fit Cassia.


	3. Uneasy Patient, Uncertain Doctor

Sir ducks around the bathroom door carrying a pile of clothing, and then abruptly freezes when he sees me. I keep my eyes cast downward, not daring to look at him. Instead, I wait for him to act. I'm good at waiting. I can feel his eyes on me, on my raw back still bleeding sluggishly and my disgusting array of scars. I can feel the tension building in him, and I wait with baited breath for him to act.

Sir growls fiercely deep in his chest and takes a step forward. I bow my head lower in a desperate attempt to appease him. I thought this would please him, make him happy with me. Why is he growling at me? What did I do? Perhaps he saw my back as proof I was a bad omega and is contemplating how to treat me as such. I whine nervously, and Sir freezes at the sound.

"It's okay," Sir soothes. "I'm sorry about that. Stupid Alpha brain took control for a second there. It won't happen again."

That's. . . surprising. All the Alpha's I've ever met all think that Alpha's are superior to anyone else, unable to do anything wrong. This one just criticized his Alpha instincts.

I nervously watch his feet and keep my face to the ground. Sir drops a pile of clothes to the ground. I try not to flinch as they land next to me. Sir pulls his cloak off and then, kneeling next to me, gently drapes it over my shoulders. I shrink back slightly, but hold my position. I don't understand. Why would Sir lower himself to my level? I have foggy memories of him doing the same thing in my cell through the haze of subdrop.

Sir places one hand on my raw back. What was meant to be a soothing gesture brushes painfully against the oozing scabs. I stiffen and hiss, trying to hide the pain. Clearly I don't do a good job of it, because Sir removes his hand and glances at my back.

"You're bleeding," he says, his voice quiet and unthreatening. I glance up to meet his eyes as he says it, before looking back down.

I'm getting blood on his cloak, I realize. It doesn't matter that he put it on me, I'll still be blamed for it.

"I'm sorry for staining your cloak, Sir," I apologize. "Please punish me as you see fit."

I hope he will be merciful in his punishment. Master used to make me go days on end without food as punishment for damaging his property.

"Wha--no, Cassia. Look, I brought you some clothes. Put these on, and I'll wait outside."

Sir nudges the pile of clothes he brought toward me, insistently pushing them into my hand. I slowly take the pile from him. He stands and watches me for a second before leaving. I glance down at the clothes in my hands, looking up as Sir closes the door behind him.

I hold up a tunic from the top of the pile. It’s grey and soft to the touch like it's been worn and washed over and over. And it smells just like Sir. Letting the cloak around my shoulders fall to the ground, I pull it over my head and tug it down. It goes down past my knees. Next is a pair of clean underwear that must also belong to Sir. I slip them on, grateful for another layer of clothing. 

Last of all is a pair of tall white socks. A gift truly, to keep my feet warm. There’s really no need for me to have socks, especially indoors. Maybe Sir is spoiling me for trying my best to be good so far. Maybe he’s the kind of Alpha to reward Omegas when they do good.

Climbing to my feet unsteadily, I open the door. Sir is sitting on the bed, waiting for me. At the sight of me, he stands, looking pleased to see me wearing the clothes he left.

"All finished?" he asks, taking a step forward. I nod. "Good. Come with me."

Shoot, I think desperately. He's going to whip me again after all. My right hand closes into a fist at my side for a moment and then I force myself to become pliant and submissive.

Taking my arm, Sir leads me back to his bed. I’m forced to lean my weight against him to keep from falling. I limp over to the bed quickly. I doubt I can climb up onto it, so I just let myself fall on top of it. The second I land I scramble into a seated kneeling position on the bed. Sir hovers above me looking troubled. 

I swallow back my terror. Master punished me in a lot of ways, he used to whip me, or sometimes he would tie me up and have his way with me. When I was really bad, he would invite other people over and let them share me. Sir has been very kind, perhaps he will be gentle in bed too. But all the same, I would much rather him just whip me.

“Do you want me to take my clothes off myself or-” I blurt out, unable to take the uncertainty for one more second.

“What? No, I just want to look at your injuries,” Sir says. 

Why would he do such a thing? Does he want to punish me by tearing my back open again, or re-breaking my fingers?

“A-All of my injuries Sir?” I asks hesitantly. 

“Okay, I need to know what all injuries you have,” he orders, looking very upset. Something in my head prompts me to answer.

“Black eye, bruised ribs, my ankles and wrists are raw, I think two fingers might be broken, my knees are stiff, and.. and my back’s still pretty torn up,” I list off quickly.

Innerly, I cringe at revealing all my flaws and weaknesses. He definitely won’t want me now.

“Thank you for telling me,” he praises. “I’d like to look at your back.”

I don’t have time to enjoy the praise. I can’t show him my back again, I think in horror. It’s hideous to look at. He’ll reject me straight away. He covered me up the second he saw me, clearly my body repulses him.

“You don’t have to look at my back sir,” I plead.

“I want to help you. Please let me see it,” he says. 

I can’t say no. Dipping my chin, I begin to gather Sir's tunic, my hands shaking with nerves. Sir turns his back again, which only makes me more confused. I slip the fabric off, sad to lose my clothing already. 

“You can cover up your front with the tunic,” he tells me. "I'm just going to get some bandages and I'll be right back."

I lay down on the bed on my stomach, tucking his tunic around my sides to cover me up. I’m not sure how much modesty I have left, but Sir told me I could cover up. Some part of me that still has dignity can't bear the thought of Sir seeing all my scars, reminders of my ineptitude and insolence.

I'm spread out now, my back bare and exposed. My breathing hitches. It feels like I'm back there, like Corvus is still circling me in the light thrown by a single torch in my cell. I squeeze my eyes shut, but I can't block out the memory.

 

Flashback

 

The whip makes a whistling noise as is cuts through the air, followed by a loud snap. The lash cuts across my sweaty back. I jerk, but can’t get away from the whip. My hands are in cuffs dangling from the ceiling and my feet are shackled to the floor.

“Seven, thank you, Master. May I have another, Master?” I recite dully in a hoarse voice. 

A hand strokes across my trembling shoulders. I shudder against his touch. Grabbing my chin, Corvus forces me to raise my head. I keep my eyes lowered, but I can feel his cruel gaze on me.

“Since you asked so nicely, I'll give you what you want omega. Never let it be said that I was not a generous Alpha,” he replies mockingly. 

He strokes his thumb across my cheek before dropping my chin and stepping away. The whip strikes my sweat slick skin again and this time my skin tears open beneath the relentless leather.

“Eight,” I say, my voice cracking.

“What do you say?” Corvus demands, steel in his voice.

I close my eyes, and let my body go limp, utterly defeated.

“Thank you, Master. May I have another, Master?”

\---

I bury my face in my arms and whimper in distress. Corvus is dead, I remind myself. Even now, I can hear Sir's footsteps coming back. There’s the sound of heavy fabric moving and then a blanket settles across my legs. Sir tucks it in around me gently. I can’t help but relax marginally at the warmth. I do hate to be cold. 

"You're alright," Sir assures me. "I've got some antiseptic here I'm going to spread on it and then we'll bandage it." 

There's the sound of a jar being open and then cold fingers spread a thick paste across my back. I wince and arch my back away. "I know," he murmurs. "I normally put this on cuts after battle. It burns, but it will keep infection away." 

It does burn a little, but it's not too bad. I slowly relax. My collar is digging into my throat, so I lay my head sideways on my hands, content just to let Sir spread the paste across my welts. Corvus never bandaged me up from what he did to me. The fact that Sir is patching me up must mean that he wants to keep me. That's a good sign.

"Alright, we're done with that. Now I'm going to bandage it. I need to wrap it around you so it will stay in place, so if you would sit up, you can hold the tunic over your front and I'll be really quick," he says.

I push myself into a sitting position, holding the tunic over my front. Sir wraps a long bandage around my back. His hands brush against my sides as he works. They're rough and calloused, but his touch is featherlight. He finishes wrapping my back quickly.

"Thank you, Sir," I say gratefully.

"It's just Milo. You don't have to call me sir," he corrects me. Milo, I mouth quietly, knowing he can't see me from where he's sitting behind me. It's a nice name, but I feel uncomfortable using it. But he asked me to call him by his name so I will. Milo, Milo, Milo I remind myself.

"You can put that back on, I'll be right back," he says, picking up the extra bandages and jar. I wait until he walks out the door before slipping the tunic back over my head. The bandages keep it from brushing against my back. I sigh in relief. I'm still cold, so I wrap the cloak around my shoulders and wait for Milo to come back.

After a minute he emerges holding a mug in his hand. He holds it out to me and I obediently take it.

My stomach drops as I smell the strong herbal scent from the dark liquid inside. I’ve been giving drugs before, one’s that sent me into a false subspace. I would always drop once I came out of it and realized it wasn’t real. Other kinds of toxins made me go pliable, so limp I couldn’t lift my limbs or move. And the worst ones made me writhe in pain for hours. I would scream until I went hoarse, overwhelmed by white hot pain.

“You don’t need to drug me, Si-Milo. I’ll do whatever you want,” I tell Milo quietly.

“It's just a painkiller. I thought it might help your back,” Milo tells me.

He sounds sad. I feel guilty for second guessing him. If he wants me to drink it, then I should drink it, no matter what it is. I gulp it down quickly, having to swallow several times force the foul liquid down my throat.

Milo must notice, because he fetches me a waterskin lying nearby, squishing it around to see how much water is left.

“Here, drink the whole thing,” he tells me. 

It's almost empty, and I gulp the remaining water down quickly. Milo holds out his hand when I’m done and I hand him the empty skin. He tuns it over in his hands thoughtfully. I wait patiently for him to figure out what to do next.

 

(Milo POV)

As I walk into the bathroom carrying the pile of clothes for Cassia and freeze as I see her kneeling naked before me. The light glows on her bare skin, showing yellow green bruises and mottled purple welts across her skin. Her long wet hair falls forward, obscuring her face and her front. She doesn't look up, keeping her head bowed and her arms crossed behind her back. Her back.

I clench my fists around the fabric as I get a good look at her for the first time. I've never felt so helpless. She’s much, much thinner than I thought. I can count all of her ribs and see each vertebrate down her spine. Whoever starved her should have their throat ripped out. Corvus is dead, I remind myself, with my sword through his chest.

It’s a shame, because the rest of Cassia’s back makes me want to kill him again. Her back is covered in welts and cuts that could only have come from getting whipped. From what I’ve seen, there’s no chance Cassia would have disobeyed any order, even one from a psychopath. Of course, even if she did she still wouldn’t deserve to be punished. 

My Alpha side flares up, ready to rip someone from limb to limb to protect this omega. I growl angrily, taking a step forward. Cassia ducks her head and and whines nervously, abruptly snapping me out of my rage. Stupid, I scold myself. How could you growl at an abused slave? As I take a step forward, she tenses.

"It's okay," I assure her. "I'm sorry about that. Stupid Alpha brain took over for a second there. It won't happen again."

Dropping the pile of clothes to the ground, I unclip my cloak. Crouching next to Cassia, I gently drape it across her shoulders. She shrinks back. I place a hand on her shoulder in what I hope is a soothing gesture. I'm not really sure about this whole comfort thing, I'm more used to killing people.

Cassia stiffens and hisses in pain. I pull my hand back as though burned. Of course it hurts for me to touch her back, I should have remembered not to touch it. Specks of red are spreading across my cloak, bloodstains.

"You're bleeding." Cassia wilts at my statement.

"I'm sorry for staining your cloak, sir." Cassia glances up at me with eyes glazed over with pain she's clearly trying to hide before hunching her shoulders. "Please punish me as you see fit."

What? Punish her...for being injured? What kind of twisted logic is that?

"Wha--no, Cassia. Look I brought you some clothes. Put these on, and I'll wait outside."

I nudge the pile of clothes towards Cassia and she reluctantly takes them in her hand. I stand, and watch her finger the soft fabric for a second. She keeps her eyes glued on her lap. Convinced she's can get dressed on her own, I leave, closing the door behind me.

I sit on the bed and bury my head in my hands. I feel like I'm getting everything wrong, and Cassia needs someone who is going to make her better. I'm not sure if I can do this. The bathroom door opens, and I look up to see Cassia in my tunic, which falls well past her knees. Seeing her in my clothes, with my scent all over her makes my Alpha side flare up. I swallow down a possessive growl, but I can't push down the instinct screaming for me to protect her.

"All finished?" I asks, trying to keep the strain out of my voice. Cassia nods mutely. "Good. Come with me," I say, taking her arm.

She leans on me heavily as I lead her to the bed. Cassia doesn’t walk so much as limp. She all but collapses on the bed, pulling her legs up under her in a seated kneeling position. I hover over her anxiously, not sure what to do. Her back definitely needs dressed, but I'm not sure I'm the one to do it.

“Do you want me to take my clothes off myself or—“ she fidgets nervously.

“What? No, I just want to look at your injuries,” I splutter. 

She thought I wanted to have sex with her, I realize. Well of course, how dumb can I be? What else would she think after my reaction?

“A-All of my injuries, sir?” Cassia asks meekly, cutting off my train of thought.

All of her injuries? How many more does she have?

“Okay, I need to know what all injuries you have,” I order.

“Black eye, bruised ribs, my ankles and wrists are raw, I think two fingers might be broken, my knees are stiff, and.. and my back’s still pretty torn up,” she lists off nervously. 

She’s eager to please me, obeying all my orders and suggestions immediately, but I can tell she’s feeling hesitant about telling me her horribly long list of injuries.

“Thank you for telling me,” I praise. “I’d like to look at your back.”

“You don’t have to look at my back sir,” she says quickly, clearly scared of me.

“I want to help you. Please let me see it,”I tell her. 

She ducks her head and begins to stiffly pull up her tunic. I quickly turn around again. 

“You can cover up your front with the tunic,” I tell her over my shoulder. "I'm just going to going to get some bandages and I'll be right back." 

I gather some strips of bandages and an antiseptic herb paste from the chest in the bathroom. In my line of work, I get a lot of injuries. It's just easier for me to bandage them up myself, hence my stash of supplies. I absently pick up my cloak on the floor on my way out.

Back in the bedroom, Cassia is lying face down on the bed with her face buried in her arms. Her tunic is bunched up underneath her, helping to cover her front. But she's more or less naked besides the underwear and socks. She lets a muffled whimper that tugs sharply at my Alpha instincts. Her scent is full of misery and fear. I quickly set down the supplies on the bed and turn to her.

I want to make it better, but I feel like there's nothing I can do. I unfold my balled up cloak and spread it across her lower body, tucking it in around her. Hopefully that will make her feel a little warmer and safer.

"You're alright," I tell her, hoping it's true. I turn back to my supplies. "I've got some antiseptic here I'm going to spread on it and then we'll bandage it," I tell her, trying to narrate what's going to happen so she won't get scared.

Opening the jar, I scoop out a generous amount and begin spreading it across her welts as gently as I can. She winces and instinctively arches her back away from my hand. 

"I know," I murmur sympathetically. "I normally put this on cuts after battle. It burns, but it will keep infection away." 

She turn her head to the side and closes her eyes, but her back is still tense under my hand. The trust in the gesture isn't lost on me. Cassia is tough, she doesn't make another noise the entire time I'm working on her

"Alright, we're done with that. Now I'm going to bandage it. I need to wrap it around you so it will stay in place, so if you would sit up, you can hold the tunic over your front and I'll be really quick," I say.

I've been trying really, really hard not make Cassia unclothe herself in front of me, but there's no avoiding this.

She sits up, hugging the tunic to her chest. I quickly wraps the long bandage around her lower back, placing one hand on her side to steady her. Her skin is soft under mine. My Alpha side wants to stroke her side with my thumb, wants to run my hands all over this wonderful, beautiful omega. I force those thoughts down forcefully. Cassia is scared of me. She does not want me to touch her. I finish wrapping her back quickly.

"Thank you, sir," she says earnestly.

I squirm a little bit at the title.

"It's just Milo. You don't have to call me sir," I tell her. She doesn't reply, and I don't know what to think of her silence. I stand and start to gather up the extra bandages and jar.

"You can put that back on," I tell her, gesturing at the tunic. "I'll be right back.

I dump the supplies back into the chest and then continue down the hall to the kitchens, where I dig out some poppy seed, willow bark, and turmeric and blend it together. It's makes a familiar but foul smelling tea, one that I normally make for myself. 

When I come back, Cassia is sitting up on the bed with the cloak wrapped around her shoulders. I hand her the mug and she takes it, but hesitates when she smells the foul odor.

“You don’t need to drug me, sir-Milo. I’ll do whatever you want,” she says quietly.

And what? Why would I drug Cassia? I can't even begin to imagine what all she's gone through for her to make that kind of assumption.

“They’re just painkillers. I thought it might help your back,” I say sadly. 

She lifts the mug to her mouth and down the whole thing in several gulps. She swallows and grimaces as she finishes. I grab a waterskin off a nearby table and squish it around. There's hardly any left.

“Here, drink the whole thing,” I tell her as I hand it to her.

She drinks it quickly. I hold out my hand when she's done and she hands the empty skin back. I turn in over in my hands, distracted as I try to figure out what to do next.


	4. Hungry Customer, Humble Cook

Cassia POV

After tending to my back, Milo lets me put his tunic back on. He wraps my knee up in linen strips, and my bad ankle too. The fingers he carefully braced against a stick and wrapped together. I half expected him to bend the broken fingers backwards when I let him grab my hand. Milo has been very gentle and very thorough. When we've finished, I'm half covered in ointment and bandages.

“All right. Let’s go to the kitchen and get you some food,” Milo says, clapping his hands together enthusiastically.

I flinch at the sound an impact on flesh, but slide off the bed toward him. I'm still nauseous with fear, but the suggestion of food makes my stomach growl eagerly. My stomach aches with emptiness, even after all the water I've drank.

Milo turns and begins to walk away. I follow on my hands and knees, biting my lip to keep from whimpering at the way my knees ache. Milo glances over his shoulder and jerks to a stop.

“Are you okay?” he asks, reaching down for me in concern.

“Yes sir,” I reply quietly.

I've done something wrong again. All I want to do is make Milo happy with me and I keep messing that up. 

“Why are you on the floor?” he asks.

“Master Corvus made me crawl from place to place." Usually he enforced this with a heel on the back of my neck driving me into the ground. 'My rightful place' as he liked to say. It seems Milo doesn't share this sentiment. I've misjudged the situation again. 

"I wasn’t sure if you would allow me to walk. I’m sorry for assuming sir,” I say miserably.

Milo's fists clench and then relax. He seems to be visibly controlling his anger at me, but when he speaks his voice is calm.

“That’s alright," he assures me kindly. "You are most certainly allowed to walk. I will never make you crawl for any reason."

I get my feet stiffly, putting most of my weight on my good leg. I'm stiff and sore, but I'm upright, and that's always a good thing. Milo starts walking again at a slower pace, probably for me. My knee feels better, but it's still twinges with every step. I limp after Milo.

He enters the kitchen and starts rummaging through shelves, pulling out food and laying it on a table in the middle of the room. I wait in the entrance, not sure what I'm supposed to do next. Normally, I would kneel next to one of the counters. But so far, all my assumptions have gotten me into trouble. The problem is, I don't know what else to do.

"Come sit," Milo tells me, pointing to the table. Relieved at the instructions, I enter the kitchen and drop to my knees on the floor by the table, grateful not to have to stand. The exhaustion of everything is starting to catch up with me, and I feel like I could keel over.

Milo pulls a loaf of bread out and turn back towards the table. He stops when he sees me. "Cassia, you can sit in the chairs," he says, making it sound like an order. At the table? This Alpha is strange, wanting me to eat at the table with him. Getting to my feet, I carefully perch on one of the chairs like he wants. 

I watch Milo prepare the food, using a large knife to slice the loaf of bread. I can't help but eyeing the knife warily as he deftly cuts off slices. Next he arranges slices of salted meat and cheese on the bread, forming two small towers of food. 

He sits one of them down in front of me. I glance down at it despite myself. The delicious scent wafts upward and my mouth pools with saliva. 

Milo arranges the meat and cheese on bread, forming two towers of food. He sits one of them down in front of me. I glance down at it despite myself. The delicious scent wafts upward and my mouth pools with saliva. I look back at Milo, who takes a huge bite out of his own food. He nods at the food in front of me.

"You don't like it?" He asks with a frown.

"It certainly smells good," I reply, dodging his question entirely. I know better to assume this food is meant for me, or to start eating without permission. Milo sets his sandwich down and looks at me.

"Cassia, you can eat it. I made it for you," he says.

"I-I can have some of this?" I ask hopefully. 

Milo nods, finally giving me permission to eat. Still, I reach forward hesitantly. Milo clearly meant the sandwich is for me, but I have a hard time believing him. It's fresh food, I just saw him make it. He's eating the same thing. It's really all for me? Grabbing the sandwich, I take a huge bite of it.

It tastes heavenly. Meat! Actual meat and thick cheese. When was the last time I had such good food? Even the bread is delicious, soft and thickly cut. I could almost weep in gratitude, but I really don't want to embarrass myself.

Instead, I sigh and let my eyes flutter closed, savoring every bite.

"I'm glad you like it," Milo says with a smile. "I'm not sure I'm much of a cook."

I scarf down the rest so fast I'm not sure how much of it I taste. It might have something to do with me not being fed for two days, but it might be the best thing I've ever eaten.

Milo is a great cook, if only for the fact that he let me eat fresh food. I'm a good cook, I know that. My first master used me as a household slave, and I learned to cook large, complex meals for him. I might have fallen out of practice while-- Well, it's been a while. I wouldn't mind cooking for Milo I think, and am surprised that I actually mean it.

 

 

Milo POV

Cassia puts her tunic back on, and I turn to the other injuries she listed off. I wrap her ankle and bad knee, again something I've done for myself often. Her broken fingers were a little trickier, but I managed to splint them pretty well. Before I decided she was finished being doctored, I spread ointment in the raw skin of her wrists and ankles and her black eye.

She endured it all quietly, and without a word. She flinched a little when I wrapped her fingers, but nothing close to her earlier reaction. I feel a little better once I get her bandaged up. I can do this, I can take care of this Omega.

“All right. Let’s go to the kitchen and get you some food,” I clap my hands together enthusiastically.

Cassia flinches a little at the noise. Mentally, I berate myself. I'm trying my hardest, and I'm still terrifying the poor girl every few minutes.

She slides off the bed toward me. I start to walk out of the room, checking back over my shoulder to make sure she’s following. She's not behind me, but movement makes me look down. Cassia is on the ground, crawling after me on her hands and knees. 

“Are you okay?” I ask in alarm.

“Yes sir,” she replies quietly. I take a small, deep breath to try and keep my composure.

“Why are you on the floor?” It has to be hurting her knees, and I doubt it's good for her back either.

“Master Corvus made me crawl from place to place. I wasn’t sure if you would allow me to walk. I’m sorry for assuming sir,” she says miserably.

Allow her to walk? That sick Alpha scum made her crawl everywhere like a dog instead of walking? I try to tamp down my anger. Cassia will think it’s directed at her.

“That’s alright. You are most certainly allowed to walk. I will never make you crawl for any reason,” I promise. 

Cassia gets to her feet stiffly. After a heartbeat, I start for the kitchens again, going very very slowly so Cassia can keep up. Wrapping her ankle and knee must have helped her tremendously. She follows me easily, limping heavily on her bad knee, but still able to keep up.

The kitchen is a little sparse. My cook, Adriadne, is currently visiting her aunt. After scrounging through the cupboards, I find a loaf of bread, a wheel of cheese, and some salted pork. It'll do. I set to work making us sandwiches. Cassia hovers uncertainly in the background. 

"Come sit," I invite her, gesturing to the work table in the middle of the kitchen. There are a few stools around it, but it's still a workspace. Maybe the less formal environment will make her feel more comfortable.

Cassia limps into the kitchen. I turn to to grab the loaf of bread, and when I turn back around, Cassia is kneeling next to the table.

"Cassia, you can sit in the chairs," I say, putting a hint of an order behind my words.

Cassia stands and quietly perches on one of the chairs, watching me work warily. I slice off several slices of the bread and cheese, and lay strips of meat in between them. It's not much, but it's food. 

Personally, I'm starving after the raid. I doubt this sandwich will do much to satisfy me, but if Cassia has been starved she shouldn't eat too much too soon. And nothing too rich either. I've learned that through dealing with victims in the last five years with the team.

I sit down a sandwich in front of Cassia. She stares at with wide eyes and then looks back to me. I take a bite out of my food, waiting for her to do the same. She just watches me.

"You don't like it?" I ask, nodding at the food in front of her. I picked a pretty simple meal. Maybe it's against her religion to eat pork, I should have asked her.

"It certainly smells good," she replies quietly, looking down mournfully at her sandwich.

I have a sinking feeling that Cassia thinks the sandwich isn't meant for her, or is some sort of cruel trick. My heart hurts for her. I know what it's like to be hungry, truly hungry. The restraint she has to keep from tearing into the food like a rapid dog has been literally beaten into her until she is too afraid to eat without permission.

"Cassia, you can eat it. I made it for you." I tell her, trying to keep my tone neutral.

"I-I can have some of this?" Cassia asks, hope thick in her voice.

I nod encouragingly, picking up my own sandwich to another take a bite out of it. Slowly, as though she expects her hand to be swatted away at any moment, she reaches for the sandwich. Wrapping her hands around it, she quickly pulls it back to her and takes a huge bite.

I just thought her eyes were big earlier. Now they seem to widen even more as she chews her mouthful. She stops and sighs, her lashes fluttery closed in pleasure.

"I'm glad you like it," I laugh. "I'm not sure I'm much of a cook."

She doesn't reply, but the rest of her sandwich disappears in a few bites. I feel guilty about not giving her more food, but I don't think she could stomach it.

Just wait till Adriadne comes back. Her food is so good, it'll make Cassia go into subspace just from smelling it. The thought makes me sad and strangely jealous. If anyone makes Cassia go into subspace, I want it to be me I realize.


End file.
